Your heart beat accelerates. You break out in cold sweat. You tense up and imagine. Your heart is beating wildly. You await what happens next with much trepidation.
That, my friends, is fear.
Just about two weeks ago, I crawled out of a car wreck, conscious and alert. I was bleeding, trembling and in shock, I know, but I knew what I had to do - call 995. I survived the whole incident, happy, alive and even thought that hospital stay was quite alright, despite getting my arm poked so many times with an IV needle. I wasn't severly traumatised. I don't get nightmares. I thought I was totally fine, happy-go-lucky, no problem. I guess I was kind of wrong.
My mum was wrecked with severe abdominal pain and backache today. For the second time this week. One type of painkiller's not working, get another. So my dad and I hopped into the car and went back to our house to get it. We're currently lodging at my Grandpa's condo cos the stairs back home made everything really inconvenient in our circumstances.
The drive back home was silent. It was close to midnight, even the roads were quiet. But this silence was punctuated with wrecking dry cough from my dad from time to time. I frowned. That's been going on for more than 2 weeks. And he sounded like he was gonna cough his lungs out.
"Quit smoking, dad."
"It's got nothing to do with smoking."
"Oh, it has everything to do with smoking, especially your lungs. You should read my Bio textbook."
Naturally, that was met with silence. That's just him. And he's seen the doctor twice. We got home, grabbed my mum's medicine and got back into the car.
On the drive back to the condo, yet again, there were bouts of dry wrecking cough. It got so bad, he had to wind down the window and cough. Fear then reached out with its clingy tentacles, and gripped me tightly. Flashes of images from the accident surfaced in my mind and I tightened my hold on the bags of medicine. He wasn't speeding, but he was driving fast. Or perhaps fear has clouded my judgement. I was so afraid. So afraid that in the midst of coughing, he would lose control of the car. I stoned in the front passenger seat as we maneuver through the thin traffic. My heart was palpitating with fear.
We finally reached the car park. My dad immediately got out of the car to cough. And it sounded like he was coughing his insides out. I got out of the car too, and slowly walked back to the apartment, waiting for my breathing to return to normal and my heart beat to slow down.
Both of them ought to get a proper medical check-up and save me from worrying my insides out. I need some sleep. It's frickin' 2.35am now. I have no idea what I'm doing awake at this unearthly hour. Get well soon, Mum, Dad and CL. Next time you get severe abdominal pain, you'd better go straight to the doctor. Or I'll have your hide.
Ciao people. Good night. Or rather, morning.
That, my friends, is fear.
Just about two weeks ago, I crawled out of a car wreck, conscious and alert. I was bleeding, trembling and in shock, I know, but I knew what I had to do - call 995. I survived the whole incident, happy, alive and even thought that hospital stay was quite alright, despite getting my arm poked so many times with an IV needle. I wasn't severly traumatised. I don't get nightmares. I thought I was totally fine, happy-go-lucky, no problem. I guess I was kind of wrong.
My mum was wrecked with severe abdominal pain and backache today. For the second time this week. One type of painkiller's not working, get another. So my dad and I hopped into the car and went back to our house to get it. We're currently lodging at my Grandpa's condo cos the stairs back home made everything really inconvenient in our circumstances.
The drive back home was silent. It was close to midnight, even the roads were quiet. But this silence was punctuated with wrecking dry cough from my dad from time to time. I frowned. That's been going on for more than 2 weeks. And he sounded like he was gonna cough his lungs out.
"Quit smoking, dad."
"It's got nothing to do with smoking."
"Oh, it has everything to do with smoking, especially your lungs. You should read my Bio textbook."
Naturally, that was met with silence. That's just him. And he's seen the doctor twice. We got home, grabbed my mum's medicine and got back into the car.
On the drive back to the condo, yet again, there were bouts of dry wrecking cough. It got so bad, he had to wind down the window and cough. Fear then reached out with its clingy tentacles, and gripped me tightly. Flashes of images from the accident surfaced in my mind and I tightened my hold on the bags of medicine. He wasn't speeding, but he was driving fast. Or perhaps fear has clouded my judgement. I was so afraid. So afraid that in the midst of coughing, he would lose control of the car. I stoned in the front passenger seat as we maneuver through the thin traffic. My heart was palpitating with fear.
We finally reached the car park. My dad immediately got out of the car to cough. And it sounded like he was coughing his insides out. I got out of the car too, and slowly walked back to the apartment, waiting for my breathing to return to normal and my heart beat to slow down.
Both of them ought to get a proper medical check-up and save me from worrying my insides out. I need some sleep. It's frickin' 2.35am now. I have no idea what I'm doing awake at this unearthly hour. Get well soon, Mum, Dad and CL. Next time you get severe abdominal pain, you'd better go straight to the doctor. Or I'll have your hide.
Ciao people. Good night. Or rather, morning.
posted by LeVaire | 1:53 AM
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